


An Unlikely Pair

by luna_plath



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Drabble, F/F, Femslash, Friendship/Love, Future Fic, POV Lesbian Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 11:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1856760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna_plath/pseuds/luna_plath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were considered to be an unlikely pair by the residents of the castle who thought it unusual to see a lady and a bastard like Mya grow so close, but most in Winterfell had grown used to it.  Sansa wondered what they would think if they knew the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unlikely Pair

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've written femslash. Comments/thoughts would be greatly appreciated : )

When Sansa had returned to Winterfell she had been instated as the heir to the north, taking on all the demands that entailed, at least until Rickon came of age. Even after a long day of hearing grievances from petitioners or sitting through meetings with vassals, Sansa was glad despite it all, glad to be home once more.

With only herself and Rickon to care for, Sansa spent many a sleepless night wondering if Bran or Arya was still alive or if she would ever see them again. Often times she found herself in the godswood praying to at least know if they were safe. And to her amazement, once she had finished her prayers Sansa would feel the wind pick up in the branches of the leafy canopy above her, or watch as a crow glided down from the sky to observe her from a low-hanging branch. It gave her peace to know that at least the gods were listening.

Despite her worries, Sansa did have one thing for herself outside her role as the Lady of Winterfell.

As she passed the training yard Sansa offered a smile to her closest friend and master at arms, Mya Stone. To an outsider it would only appear as a greeting between friends, which it was, truly. They were considered to be an unlikely pair by the residents of the castle who thought it unusual to see a lady and a bastard like Mya grow so close, but most in Winterfell had grown used to it. Sansa wondered what they would think if they knew the truth.

At the end of the day she would pour herself a glass of Dornish sour and remove the pins from her hair, letting it fall down her back in loose, coppery waves. Sansa would always dab a bit of perfumed oil along her neck and between her breasts, excitement bubbling in her until the hour when Mya would join her in her chambers, waiting until the household had mostly retired.

“Why must you always make me wait?” Sansa asked playfully, her arms slipping around Mya’s waist.

Mya was barely inside her chambers, having just closed and barred the door to Sansa’s rooms.

“I wait only as long as I must, you know that,” Mya replied, leaning forward and bringing her mouth to Sansa’s.

Feeling herself shiver under Mya’s touch, Sansa parted her lips and brushed her hands through Mya’s short, roughly cut hair.

“I grow more impatient by the moment,” she breathed, allowing herself to be steered toward the bed.

She felt Mya’s huff of laughter on her neck. Her back pressed to the mattress, Sansa pulled her closest, dearest friend on top of her, sighing into Mya’s mouth when her hands caressed her sides and cupped her breasts through her thin shift. Sansa arched her back, wanting only to be closer to her, to feel Mya’s bare skin against her own.

“At least I have you now,” she whispered, rolling Mya underneath her and leaning down for a kiss.

To the rest of the castle she was Sansa Stark, Warden of the North, and Mya was the illegitimate child of a fallen king. Despite their wishes they had to live with all the responsibility those roles entailed, but here, together, they could be what they truly were.


End file.
